Pieces of Amnesia
by Perhaps I can Fly
Summary: Amnesia was certainly a descend into darkness. Kire simply can't remember anything that had happened in her short lifetime, and is left with many pieces of the puzzle unfixed, and a trailing, hopeless justice dog. With a fresh beginning, would she decide to follow what she has seemingly achieved so far, or embark on a new path, with her unknown past eating at her every step?
1. Piece 1: Awakening

Her vision blurred, but those crystal blue eyes remained wide open. She kept staring at the azure blue sky, her head lying on the cobbled floor, the blood bath around her long forgotten. The sky was the prettiest of blues that day, but even the clouds seemed to slow merge into the all-surrounding sky. Her life liquid slowly seeped out as the battle raged on and on, another body, another slowly dying soul forgotten and tossed aside in the hope for a greater good. What was she to the meaning of justice? Just another tool. No one cared if she vanished.

She sighed, as the edges of her vision started turning black.

All of a sudden, another blob appeared in her view, putting pressure on her severe, most likely fatal, wound, and shouting at her. What was it saying? All she heard were muffled shouts, and slowly, little by little, she was dragged under, down into the pit-less, endless black abyss, the blob becoming smaller and smaller as she fell deeper and deeper. Yet, those crystal blue eyes never once closed.

* * *

Where was she?

Floating about in the endless abyss, she felt light, nothing weighing her down. Nothing. Those crystal blue eyes were still open, but they were blank. Nothing reflected in them, not a shed of light. She didn't know how long she had been there. Minutes? Days? Time didn't pass here.

She felt herself grow lighter and lighter in all eternity, before she was rudely dragged back from the endless pit into the blinding light. How long has it been since she saw light?

Those crystal blue eyes flickered open in reality, and blinked several times, slowly readjusting to the white light shining directly above her. Why was it so bright? Could someone dim it? It hurt her eyes. Her mouth moved, slowly, silently. No words emerged at first, but little by little, the words came out. Her voice was rusty and raspy, as if it hadn't been used in a while. How long has it been?

A pink-topped figure was suddenly thrust into her view, and she blinked again, the sudden loss of light a surprise. There was some muffled shouting, but as she got use to reality once again, the words slowly became clearer. "… blink!"

Blink? She blinked. Those crystal blue eyes reflected uncertainty as her vision cleared, revealing a pink-haired boy, no older than eighteen, looking down worriedly at her, before disappearing from her line of sight. Painfully, gently, slowly, she turned her head to her side, those crystal blue eyes following the direction to where the pink-haired boy with round glasses was waiting desperately for an answer from what seemed to be a snail with a sleeping mask.

Those crystal blue eyes blinked, before finally closing relaxingly for the first time in an indefinite period of time. She fell into the wondrous world of dreams.

* * *

"Belo belo belo! Belo belo belo!"

The baby Den Den Mushi that sat comfortably on his side table hadn't stop ringing for the past few minutes. Usually by then, people would have stopped calling on the account that he was asleep. He had been, a few minutes ago, but this persistent pink-haired fellow by the name of Coby hadn't stop ringing. Finally awaken from his never-ending nap, he lazily stretched forward and picked up the tiny receiver. "Hello?"

The next few words had him shake off the drowsiness of sleep, and walking away with unusually large strides, his rarely worn white Marine coat flaring out behind him, and the Den Den Mushi in his palm.

"Admiral? She's up!"

She was rudely awoken from her beautiful dream by the same pink-haired boy, who had poked her side a few times too many. How long has it been? Can't he let her sleep? But another person seemed to have joined the boy. A tall man with a sleeping mask. He seemed familiar.

The admiral had rushed, or walked rather quickly, given his usual strolling pace, to the infirmary on the ground level from his office on the second top level, when Coby had informed him she was awake. The pink baby Den Den Mushi now laid on the mini-side table, next to her bed in the private room of the infirmary, next to his own personalized baby snail phone. Those crystal blue eyes stared blankly, slowly assessing him. He fiddled nervously with the small, velvet box in one of his infinite pockets. He finally cleared his throat after a few quiet moments, and her crystal blue eyes flickered off his face. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

No response was given, and the beeping of the heart monitoring system was the only sound that echoed throughout the large room. Coby had moved a respectable distance away, dozing on the nearby couch in the private, enclosed room. The new pink-haired, round-glasses recruit had been friends with the light blue-haired female, and was exhausted from watching her day after day.

Admiral Aokiji moved his own large hand to gently touch her flawless cheek, and she visibly flinched at the contact of his ice-cold hand on her contrasting warm skin. But his eyes narrowed so very slightly when she didn't relax into his touch.

He knew he had his hopes up when she weakly moved his hand. His heart jumped when she jerkishly reached out to touch his ice-cold hand, before the fragile organ plummeted when she gave a light push to his hand, moving it away from her face. She smashed his heart mercilessly with her next few words. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you."

Aokiji felt his heart shatter there and then. The only woman that had managed to become the fire to his ice heart had turned into a knife to the thawed and tender organ. He could only watched, soullessly, as she turned to face away from him, puling the IV drip attached to her slightly looser before falling back asleep. Coby had jumped up sometime between her words, and was now hovering worriedly over the sleeping form, all tiredness forgotten. She can't remember? It was only a 13% chance that she would contract amnesia from her injuries. Were they that unlucky?

Aokiji pulled his wandering hand away from her, as if the air around her was solely enough to burn him. Standing up, he strolled out of the room. His heart burned. Even though he felt as if he couldn't hate anything or anyone more than her at the moment, her, who played with his heart and left him defenseless, he didn't have the heart to slam the door behind him. After all, it really wasn't her fault.

It all begun with that stupid order for her to join the base on Sugarcandy Island, located right smack in the middle of the New World. The island was dangerous beyond words, with strong pirate crews that have survived the torrent of the New World, including Yonkou crews, docking there to have their supplies refilled. He had begged Sengoku himself not to send her there, and had even offered to take her place. But that stupid man refused, insisting that the admiral was needed in HQ, and that it was her duty, as a Marine of Justice, to protect the residents on the island.

The frame of the door started to crumble under the strength of his clutch, and yet, he ignored it, continuing in his angry memories.

Reluctantly, he had allowed her to leave HQ for Sugarcandy Island, of course, not before giving her one of his private Den Den Mushi so she could stay in contact with him no matter where she was. That teasing smile she threw at him before she and her crew disappeared beyond the horizon was unknowingly, his last. The next thing he heard, a bloody war had broken out between the Marines and the Whitebeard pirates. He had ignored all orders, vetoed all missions, grabbed his bike, and cycled as fast he could to the island. He was too late. The war had already ended, and his beloved was losing her life fast, the life liquid rapidly draining out of her from her multiple wounds. She had come up against the Commanders, the First and the Fourth, judging from the many bruises and the stab and slash wounds littering her body and her limbs. Those crystal blue eyes were fading as he applied force onto one of her more fatal ones, the slash at her neck, while shouting at her to stay awake and for medical attention.

By the time they got to her, she was in a coma for blood loss.

The ice spread slowly, but thickly across the wooden door, the Marines in the general infirmary looking curiously on.

Aokiji suddenly straightened to his full height, brushed his rarely worn jacket, and pulled out yet another baby Den Den Mushi, this one, a direct line to the highest power in the Marines.

Sengoku sighed as he picked up yet another phone call from one of his multiple snail phones on his desk. These calls have been never-ending since the fight with the Whitebeards, and the paperwork seemed to have an infinite source, with the end target of drowning him. But his attention was grabbed from whatever he had been doing when the voices of one of the three admirals came through. "Fleet Admiral. You had better come down to the infirmary. She's awake."

The top dog immediately re-thought his decision to ignore the call after the last word was practically growled through the phone. "Now."

He had never heard Aokiji this mad before. Saints above, could Aokiji even get mad?

Sengoku quickly shuffled all his paperwork one side, switched off all his phones, before hurrying down the many flights of stairs to the infirmary from his top floor office. He thought and rethought his conversation with his Admiral as he eventually reached the ground level. What had made the usually laid-back officer growl?

The Fleet Admiral, with the question in mind, wandered mindlessly into the infirmary, under the shower of one-handed salutes from the injured soldiers, who felt honored that their Fleet Admiral had taken his precious time off to visit them. But Sengoku completely ignored them, instead choosing to stroll quietly through the half-frozen, half-crumbling door of the private room, and closing the door gently behind him, leaving the injured confused. Who exactly was in that room that was so important?

The girl didn't stir an inch from her sleep, and neither did Aokiji from his nearby seat, as Sengoku slipped in, unnoticed. He took one look at the girl lying innocently on the bed, and at the depressed Admiral, before he took a deep breath, and sighed, announcing his previously unknown presence in the room. Aokiji looked up, acknowledging his arrival, standing up and walking to his side next to the enormous bed. "She woke up, but her condition… isn't that great."

With Aokiji looking on, Sengoku took his time to carefully analyze the girl's more visible injuries, being the great and famous strategist he is. Pulling the white comforter slightly off her, only for Aokiji to flinch, he ran two fingers from her unmarred face down to her bruised and brutally scarred neck. He could roughly guess what the rest of her would look like. According to his information, she had been fighting with the Whitebeard First Division Commander, Marco the Phoenix. They had been on par with each other, both receiving and dealing damage of their own, before the Fourth Division Commander stepped in to help. It was then that she could no longer cope, and down she went.

Removing his hand, he watched intrigued as the ice Admiral gently pulled the white sheet back over her small form, tucking her in, and eyeing her slightly as she tossed, sighed and slept on, hardly moved from her dreamland. He readjusted his cap before speaking again. "She seems pretty fine. Healing up nicely."

The temperature of the already cool room seemed to drop even further, as Aokiji redirected his eyes from Sengoku back down at the sleeping girl, those usually sleepy eyes zeroing in on a spot on the blanket. His voice trembled as he begun to spoke, and he knew he didn't sound much like himself, the bitterness too evident.

"She has amnesia." He mumbled to himself, under his breath.

Sengoku had already opened his mouth, prepared to ask the admiral to speak up, when Aokiji suddenly looked up, his eyes cold, hard and hurt. "She has amnesia, damn it! She doesn't remember anything! None of those three years we spent together! Not even me! And it's all your damn fault!"

The hot tears streaming down his face scotched his icy skin for the first-time in many years, plopping like grief-filled raindrops down onto the untainted blanket, struggling to compose himself. He reached down, forcing one clenched fist open to brush his fingers gently over her cheek. Suddenly, he straightened, redrawing a small, velvet box from the depths of his pocket. "I was planning to ask her after she returned."

He forcibly hurled the box at the ground, causing it to bounce a few times and open as he disappeared in a swirl of ice, the plain platinum ring rolling out off its box and finally dropping at the feet of the Fleet Admiral.

The sleeping girl didn't respond.


	2. Piece 2: Realization

Who was she? Having reluctantly opened her eyes merely minutes ago, only to have those dreaded artificial lights shining directly into her crystal blue eyes, she was already shifting and turning around on her wide, comfortable bed. She hadn't really processed any information, but even she could tell from the large cabinet across her labeled 'Medicine', and the high-tech equipment surrounding her that she was in an infirmary ward. A private one. There was no one in sight.

She took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. She couldn't recall who that man with the sleeping mask was, no matter how much the man stayed by her, no matter how much her heart ached every time she saw those eyes full of pain and guilt. What was he guilty about? More importantly, what was she to him? Why bother staying by her all this time, obviously pulling rank and power to get away from all his assignments just to be with her?

They had sat in silence for hours, neither talking, with only the sound of breathing filling the hollow space. He had looked away from her after a few intense minutes, but continued sitting there nevertheless, his hand on her bed but never near her.

She could remember the time that she had pushed him away.

Perhaps it was that incident. But what had made him so heartbroken? It couldn't have been her. She didn't do anything but say the honest truth.

Shifting herself slightly, she sat up, supported by her fluffy pillow.

She had been covered in bandages for the past week, and the doctors had finally decided that she no longer needed them. Yet, when they took them off, the man with the sleeping mask turned away. The scarred cuts, though now recovered, had formed horrendous scabs, each of them like welts, raising themselves high above her skin. Her bruises that littered her once beautiful skin were still purple, and she silently swore when she poked one. Where had she received all these?

She raised her arms, once again, looking at the wounds. Who was she?

"Kire."

What was that? She shifted her eyes from her mauled arms to the same man with the sleeping mask, now standing at the half-opened doorway, holding what seemed to be a bowl of soup. The steaming bowl didn't seem to affect him, as he strolled in, gently kicking the door behind him shut, before setting the now-confirmed soup beside her.

"Your name. It's Kire."

Had she asked the question out loud?

The man didn't reply a second time, instead, picked up the soup and passed it to her. Wasn't it hot? She gingerly lifted one finger to touch the smooth finishing of the well-glazed porcelain bowl. It was warm to the touch. In fact, it could be considered cold to a certain extend, remembering the fact that it had been steaming just minutes ago. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, before placing the bowl on her lap, taking the spoon, bringing it to and gently pressing the chicken broth against her thin, pale lips. Warm.

Taking a sip, her hoarse throat was relieved, like cold, refreshing rain pouring down from the heavens, as a gift to the old, parched earth. She took another drink, and another, and another. It had been a while since she had something good to eat.

Yet, halfway through her delicious soup, she had placed the spoon back in the bowl, and allowed the ripples to calm, staring at her own reflection in the murky yellow waters of the soup. "Who am I?"

The man sitting beside her jumped a little at the few words spoken, obviously unready, before replying the crystal blue-eyed female in the bed beside him with an answer he already gave. "You're Kire."

"Kire." She repeated slowly. Her own name surrounded foreign on her tongue.

"You?"

"Aokiji."

She nodded, before continuing her haste consumption of the liquefied food given to her. But inside her head, the gears are already turning. Aokiji seemed to ring a bell. Somewhere, hidden deep inside her infinite mind, his name seemed to weakly vibrate.

She brushed it off in favor of concentrating the warm broth, finally finishing and leaving the bowl on the small side-table. She found him staring off into blank space, not twitching, not moving, fortunately, leaving her some precious time to collate her thoughts.

All her memories have been hidden deep inside her, probably from trauma, judging from the wounds on her arms. She couldn't remember a thing, not even how her parents or her home island looked. She groaned, running her fingers through her chocolate hair, burying her porcelain face into the white, soft blanket. So many questions. So few answers.

The loud groan did, however, manage to snap Aokiji out of his endless daze, bringing him back into the hated reality. He gave a soft sigh, picking up the now empty bowl and standing up, before he felt a small tug on his sleeve. Much to his utter surprise, he found his love holding on to the white sleeve of the Marine jacket, those crystal blue eyes staring straight at him. "When will I be out of here?"

Aokiji froze for a few seconds, still unbelieving that his girl, the one that had just rejected him a few days ago, was now touching his cold skin out of her own will. Could it be she had already regained her memory? He finally turned around, a small smile lingering on his face, remnants of his cheerful thoughts. "Doctor says tomorrow."

She nodded, and released his jacket, allowing the strange man to walk off with the empty bowl. Was that a spring in his step? Had it been there all the time?

Kire shook her head, before settling herself back into the comfortable bed. All that talking had worn her out. Closing her eyes, she fell back into the warm lap of sleep, allowing the loving arms of blissfulness to wrap around her and lure her back to Dreamland.

Time passed quickly, and before Kire could even register the day's events, it was already over, and Kire found her back in t-shirt and jeans, her Marine badge pinned haphazardly on her shirt, sitting in the middle of her private room, and mulling over the quickly fleeing time. She absent-mindedly picked up the weapons left on her table, running her small hands across the polished silver that made up her personalized handgun. The silver had been evidently fused with different metals, losing most of its sort-after shine, but remaining very much in shape after, naturally, many fights. There were small dents littered here there, but the form of the gun still remained.

The butt of the gun seemed slightly unusual, and as she ran her sensitive fingers across the rough surface, a word couldn't help but run across her mind. "Kairoseki," She murmured, disgusted.

An underhand method to defeat Devil Fruit users. But what are Devil Fruits? And how did she know what could defeat them? She pushed the questions aside.

Flicking off the safety pin, Kire cocked the gun, randomly pointing it at her open window. But as she carelessly pulled the trigger, there was a sudden flash before her eyes. An avalanche of heavy, dark oak planks, their descend triggered by a bullet to the base. The planks clashing mercilessly down onto some unfortunate man underneath, crushing his skull in from both the weight and the impact. The fragments of bones flying and embedding themselves in the surrounding exposed flesh, and the audience watching horrified as the dead man lay there, the blood seeping out through his caved head, and his eyes, half open, as if in an endless sleep.

Kire immediately retracted her gun, pulling it in to shoot at the wall in a desperate attempt to stop the bullet, but the aftershock still caused some impact to her recently recovered arm. She hissed as the gun jerked her healing bone, dropping the gun and grabbing her right arm as the pain swarmed to her brain..

Yet time had her rushing for her gun a second time, with another foresight showing many guns being forced into her doorway, Kire slid across the floor, grabbed her gun, and cocked it at her metal door just in time as someone kicked open the unlocked door, and a horde of guns were stuck through the doorway, ready to fire.

"What happened?" An obviously male voice demanded, before cautiously stretching his head beyond the door and looking around. "Intruders?"

Kire lowered the gun, and crossed her legs, sitting herself upright from her painful floor position. False alarm. "Nothing."

As the ton of marine soldiers slowly untangled themselves from the crammed doorway, the girl removed the loose-hanging gun from her possession, placing it on the floor beside her. Why could she see what was going to happen? Or rather, what would happen if she followed through with her actions?

She rubbed her eyes several times just to be certain, and cracked her shoulders. Perhaps she was a fortuneteller. She should ask that strange man with the sleeping mask. He would know. After all, he seemed pretty familiar with her. Or maybe, if she was lucky, she could meet the top dog here and ask. He had all the information of files after all.

She stood up, brushed herself off, and shrugged on her heavy coat of 'justice', slipping the handgun into the back of skirt. It just felt right there. She made a sharp turn, walking straight out her metal door, leaving it open as she headed straight for the stairs that would lead her to the top floor.

As seemed per normal, she was already making her own analysis of the situation she was in. Since important personnel were usually located on the top floors, naturally, for their own protections, hence, she could deduce that she was pretty important, different from the rest of the regular infantry, with her room on the seventh floor, making it a hassle to get to and fro the infirmary for her regular checkup. There were, in all, around ten floors. She knew it by heart after climbing up and down all the way from the ground floor after her checkups. Therefore, she was being located on the third highest floor.

It was a short walk up the stone-cold steps, with awkward situations along the staircase when men suddenly freeze in their actions to salute her as she walked by.

She simply shrugged back at them before continuing her tired way. She knew she was high enough in the ranking ladder to command such respect, but never seen a need for it unless it was to bring attention to a certain issue at hand. Other than that, it was to ensure that men stayed away from her. Far away.

Kire was waist-deep in her thoughts, waddling in murky, unknown waters to look for the key to an answer. But just as she waddled past the ninth floor, on her merry, absorbed way to meet the brains of the entire Marine operations, a door slammed open directly in front of her. She didn't acknowledge it at all, rounding the bend of the stairs when what snapped her out of her thought process was a loud shriek.

"Kire-san!"

She stopped, turned, and found herself staring at a sea of pink.

"What the?"

She frowned, confused, before shifting her eyes slightly downwards, and realizing that it had been the boy from before, in the infirmary.

"Oh, it's you." She stated bluntly, turning back to continue her little journey, but found herself unable to even move.

She shifted slightly, turning her head from left to right, confused at a sudden disability, before looking down. The pink-haired boy was attached to her waist, and was he crying?

"Uh….."

"Are you alright?"

The pink-haired boy quickly backed off, wiping his puny eyes behind those wet glasses on his uniform sleeve and giving her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Kire-san. I've been real worried about you."

The crystal-eyed girl frowned. "You got my shirt wet."

"Who are you again?"

The boy's face begun to flush, and he started scratching the back of his luminous pink hair. "Oh. I forgot you can't remember."

He extended his hand. "I'm Coby. I use to be your apprentice."

She unnervingly caught the hand. "Hi, Coby-san. You used to be my apprentice?"

He nodded, still refusing to let go of her hand, as if scared that she would disappear the moment he let go, like an illusion or a dream. "I was transferred to Garp's department after you fell into a comma."

She, for some reason unknown to her, winced.

"Sure."

Coby gave another hesitant laugh. "So where you were heading, Kire-san? I can bring you there."

"Ummm..."

But before she could even part her cherry lips to vibrate her vocal chords to produce her answer, a freezing hand was mercilessly slapped onto her coat-coated back, causing her to jump when the temperature within herself gave a sudden drop. She whirled around, only to find her self-acclaimed dog. Aokiji was looming over her, his hair messier than usual. (Humanely possible? Not sure.)

"Where have you been all day? Your room was empty when I last checked, and I specifically remember telling you to stay there."

Kire felt like punching him. Perhaps no. That would be animal abuse. Instead, she settled with giving him a crystal-eyed glare, her piercing stare unknowingly paralyzing Coby with fear. "You're not my babysitter (dog). I do whatever I like."

Yet, Aokiji simply shrugged off her intense glare, waving off whatever she had said as if he hadn't heard it at all, and completely ignoring the shuddering pink-haired recruit standing beside him. "You're wanted by Sengoku. I need to escort you there."

This time, the gun was drawn willingly, and held menacingly in one of her petite, and with the other running across the warm metal. "I'm not walking anywhere with you."

Coby eyed the gun. Semi-automatic, 8 bullet barrel. It seemed modified. The girl nodded approvingly, seemingly reading his mind. "You've got a good eye. It's modified to shoot Kairoseki bullets. I dismantled it just now to clean inside the barrel."

Aokiji had already thrown both his hand up in obvious surrender, yet the twinkle in his usually closed eyes was hard to miss. "You don't have to walk, you know."

She batted an eyelid, and the next moment she knew, her gun had been confiscated, and she, heaved over the shoulder of the extremely tall Marine, who was now taking it in his stride with her constant thrashing as he strolled down the metal-floored corridors. Marines stared their way as she kicked his lean chest and hit his smooth back, and she flushed heavily. Not from the stares. _Did she just think his chest was lean?_

She suddenly went limp, staring at her hands in embarrassment, the heat in her chest rising rapidly to continuously cover the surface of her cheeks in a beautiful rose red. The climb up the stairs was awkward and quiet, to her, at least. But to him, he was glad. Her kicks did hurt, but he couldn't bear to hurt her, and continued his escort quietly to their destination. And when she did stop, he took it as acceptance, and his heart fluttered. He didn't have eyes on the back of his head after all.

He settled her back on the floor outside the meeting room on the highest floor, dusted her clothes, and straightened her coat. He took a step back, and scanned her. Should be fine.

He reluctantly pulled out her gun from the depths of his pocket, as if worried she'll turn around and pull it on him, but still handed it over. It was part of her uniform. "You ready?"

She was sure the blush on her face was gone. Taking a few deep breaths, she made some final adjustments to her t-shirt. "Do I have a choice?"

Aokiji gave a fleeting grin, and pushed open one of the two thick metal doors, moving aside to allow her to pass through first like a gentleman. However, as Kire moved silently through the door, those crystal-blue eyes flashed momentarily transparent, and she froze for the spiltest of seconds, before she started moving again, her coat flapping noiselessly behind her.

True enough, Sengoku was waiting for her, sitting in his large 'boss' chair, with the other two admirals sulking in some corner. Aokiji left her standing in the middle of the room, and strolled to his sofa seat to the right of the boss chair. Traitor.

Kire glanced across the room, starting with the left, giving little nods of respect to the other occupants of the room. "Kizaru-san. Akainu-san."

And her eyes stopped at the man in the middle. "Fleet Admiral."

She didn't hesitate to glare back at full force when the man's eyes grew sharp. She grabbed the chance to speak before he could, and the temperature of the atmosphere dropped a few degrees as she spoke. "I refuse."

The Fleet Admiral's eyes turned deadly, and he made it a point to slam both his hands onto his wooden table as he jumped to his feet, much to the un-surprise of the Admirals and the girl. Both remained in their positions, hardly moved (except for a few millimetres from the force of the crash) from where they originally were, and the only movement being Aokiji readjusting his sleeping mask. The entire room seemed already used to the Fleet Admiral throwing his temper just because someone refused him. But this situation wasn't as easy as it seemed to be.

Kire simply stood in the freezing air, unmoved, unhurried. She already knew where this was going. Sengoku looked as if he had just dipped his head in a vat of boiling magma. "Kire..."

Those crystal-eyes suddenly flashed again, and again, and again, before Kire shook her head to clear her mind of the sudden glimpses of the alternate future. This was absurd.

She held up her hand, stopping Sengoku from crashing into a rant, and before beginning to speak again. "I'll listen to your request. "

"But I want to know first, why can I see the future?"

Her question, direct, straight to the heart of the matter. The exact reason why she was here in the first place. The Fleet Admiral knew, and could feel his anger already subsidizing against those pure, sincere crystal eyes, eyes that reflected the majestic ocean in them, just like when she was young.

He sighed, sitting back down and removing his giant hands from the often-abused table, before beckoning the nearly seventeen girl towards him, gesturing at the cushioned seat in front of him. He only began to spoke when Kire had settled comfortably in front of him, eager to hear what he had to say, her eyes wide and crystal blue. Even the Admirals were straightening up, eager to hear what the Fleet Admiral had to say about the amnesic girl, with the exception of Aokiji, who already knew what Kire's special ability was. The dreamy look in Kire's sea-blue eyes reminded Sengoku of the not-so-far-off past, where a younger Kire would refuse to sleep and beg him for a bedtime story every night until he naturally gave in. But he was getting off topic.

He cleared his throat. "Why you can see the definite future, or sometimes, even the alternate future, is because of your very advanced stage of Kenbunshoku Haki, or Observation Haki. Observation Haki is basically the power to predict a person's movements, and a normal-leveled Haki would only be able to predict what is directly on a person's mind. However, your level of Observation Haki is completely off the charts, even when compared to those in history. You are able to predict the future of a person a few years in advance, or the outcome of a battle a few months before."

He finished, and watched Kire slowly absorb the information he had just provided. He didn't expect many changes, but he noticed a little wrinkling of the side of her left eyes, and a twitch of her eyebrow, before she sighed and leaned back into the plush seat, her eyes now hidden under her closed eyelids. "I expected that."

When she next opened her eyes, Kire was already preparing to leave the office, pushing back her chair, standing up, adjusting her skirt, and giving Sengoku a nod of respect before turning to leave. The Fleet Admiral shuffled a few papers and stacked them away. "Good to see you back on your feet, Vice-Admiral."

She threw a hand up and waved, well aware of the audience in the room. "Bye, Jii-chan."


End file.
